


tell me a piece of your history that you're proud to call your own

by unveils



Series: couldn't get the boy to kill me [3]
Category: DCU, Hellblazer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, handjobs in libraries cause theyre nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 10:52:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11850060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unveils/pseuds/unveils
Summary: John hasn’t smoked weed from a shoddily rolled joint since bloody grade school, but when in Rome, you find yourself on the floor of a run-down library in Gotham City taking drugs with boys who are far too young to be interested in you.





	tell me a piece of your history that you're proud to call your own

It takes John about two weeks to realize that Jason’s not the kind of person who’s afraid of Gotham’s ruination, but the kind of person that thrives in it.

The cobbled streets and the kids that litter them, the rundown convenience stores and the brightly painted women that hang outside of them, the diners with well-worn seats that’ve long cracked under someone’s weight and the families that run them -- it’s a shit show, to be certain, John’s not entirely sure there’s a better fucking telltale for Gotham City than  _ armpit of the bloody United States,  _ but it’s Jason’s home, and John’s always been good at finding a way to let himself into people’s lives without invitation. 

There’s a library in the East End that Jason frequents regularly, refurbished but still a dump -- tall ceilings with long, open windows that stream sunlight through the veils of dust that line that shelves. If someone looks after the place, John’s never seen them about -- Jason comes and goes as he pleases, setting up in the back with all the dusty British lit, a sketchpad and a set of pencils and books spread all around him. 

Today, John comes with him. 

He watches Jason sketch for half a moment, stood among the stacks of books he hasn’t seen since fucking grade school, before his fingers start twitching, before he starts feeling out of place, and Jason snorts, not looking up from the pad before beckoning him over. 

“Y’gonna stand there looking like a jackass or get down here with me?”

John hasn’t smoked weed from a shoddily rolled joint since bloody grade school either, but when in Rome, you find yourself on the floor of a library in Gotham City taking drugs with boys who are far too young to be interested in you. 

For a while, they sit, smoke pooling between them, Jason’s hand sketching quick over the paper, and John watching the way sunlight streams over his freckles, the sweet curls of his hair. It feels soft, too fucking comfortable, and John sighs --

Sighs and lets himself feel at home in someone else’s space -- a temporary settlement that doesn’t belong to him -- not for the first time and certainly not for the last.

When Jason finishes whatever he’s working on, he looks bright and wild and satisfied. The pad finds the floor when he leans over to press their lips together, and John feels young and stupid and alive. 

“Always had a bit of a fantasy for this shit, snogging in libraries.” He says, lazy and slow -- thinks it, really, but it’s out of his mouth before he can stop it, and Jason’s already wheezing a laugh into his cheek, pressing a kiss at his jaw. 

“Y’know,” Jason’s voice is slow, too, a drawl like it’s trickling under John’s skin, warm and lazy-like. “You’re kind of dirty for an old man.” 

And John’s half objecting to that, really, but quietly, because his dick’s also definitely not. 

He presses a kiss into the skin at Jason’s shoulder under his collar, sucking just hard enough to be a tease. “Should put you over my knee for that.” 

“I think you’d be too into it,” Jason smiles, letting a hand fall over top of John’s hair, pulling just hard enough to get him to lean back, meet his gaze. “I think you’d get me there and just decide you just wanna fuck me raw. What kind of punishment is that?”

John groans, half ‘cause it’s true, half ‘cause Jason’s --

This is Jason’s space, but it feels  _ right _  to belong here, too .

“Cheeky little bugger,” Is all he manages before he drags his hand down into Jason’s jeans, jerks him off until Jason flushes so bright his freckles shine. Jason groans a stream of swears when he comes over John’s hand, letting his head roll back to hit the wall, comfortable when he drags John’s hand up to suck his fingers into his mouth until they come back slick and clean.

After a moment, Jason moves to stand, takes ahold of John’s hand, still wet at the fingers, and snatches a book off the table, dropping it into his bag. 

“Steph’s in class for another fifteen.” Is all he says, motioning his head towards the door with a grin like a fucking thief. 

John smiles, blames the way warmth spreads through him on the fucking drugs, and takes a second to fold the drawing Jason abandoned on the floor into his pocket.


End file.
